


Sheep's Clothing

by bobbiewickham



Series: Les Drabbles [6]
Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:15:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23522929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbiewickham/pseuds/bobbiewickham
Summary: Courfeyrac misplaces a hat; Bahorel misplaces a cape.
Series: Les Drabbles [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677259
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Sheep's Clothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oilan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oilan/gifts).



> Written for a prompt requesting Bahorel, Courfeyrac, and finding the other wearing their clothes.

Courfeyrac swished the cape behind him, preening as best as he could in the inadequate reflection provided by the metal of the press. He turned this way and that, enjoying the way the crimson silk flared. A pity he didn’t have his hat–he’d left it somewhere in the course of running hither and thither throughout the day. But other than that, he looked–why be modest?–marvelous. 

“Who left this here? Bahorel, or Prouvaire?” Courfeyrac asked, as Enjolras returned from the inner room. 

Enjolras shooed Courfeyrac away from the machinery and began to feed the press with paper before saying, with a hint of a smile, “Bahorel. He came in with it, and then forgot it when he stormed out in a rage over something he read in the Moniteur.“

“Ah,” said Courfeyrac, “well, I’m sure Bahorel, fine and generous soul that he is, would gladly lend it to me, and concede that I look better in it.” He performed a graceful twirl, and admired the way the cape settled around his form when he was done. “Especially since I’m off to the party we spoke of–I should have no trouble scraping an acquaintance with that clerk, not with this to help me stand out.”

Enjolras, suppressing what surely would have been a full-blown smile had he let it, said, “No doubt.” 

At the party, held in an unfortunately dark and dank room, Courfeyrac’s cape seemed to glow all the brighter. He did his best to make it billow out at every opportunity, for why waste it? The clerk was met, and befriended, and Courfeyrac was ready to call his duty done and go home, when he came upon a familiar shape in oddly sober clothes. “Bahorel?” Another beat, then: “You–”

“Am I dull enough, do you think?” Bahorel’s teeth glinted in the murky candlelight.

“You have _my hat_ ,” Courfeyrac said, pointing to the object in Bahorel’s hand.

Bahorel shrugged. “I and a few friends agreed we would dress up as horrors, so I chose to dress as a proper young aristo. Your hat came in very handy for the purpose! You should stop leaving it all over the place, my dear.” He clapped Courfeyrac on the shoulder, and then frowned, and squinted, and looked closer. “You–”

Courfeyrac couldn’t resist another dramatic pirouette. The cape swirled around him in a very satisfying way, and Bahorel’s face was more satisfying still.


End file.
